


If we can't have it all, then nobody will

by Hieiandshino



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hieiandshino/pseuds/Hieiandshino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In a different world, they could have been husband and wife.</i>
</p><p>(Unrevised work)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If we can't have it all, then nobody will

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [JEŻELI NIE MOŻEMY TEGO MIEĆ, TO NIKT NIE BĘDZIE MÓGŁ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118291) by [nancythewitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancythewitch/pseuds/nancythewitch)



> Marvel (All media types) does not belong to me. I like to think I would do a better job than they, but, hey, we'll never know.
> 
> Title comes from song "The world is not enough", by Garbage.
> 
> This is an unrevised work, so I'm sorry for my mistakes.
> 
> Spoilers for _nothing_! I know, right? I just wanted to write a story that kinda merges both the Cinematic Universe and the comics.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Russian translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4571488) by the lovely pridym. Thank you so much, my love!**

In a different world, they could have been husband and wife, Wanda thinks, as she slowly traces universes and probabilities on her brother’s back. He is looking at her, eyes shining with love that he only ever gives her, as he lets her draw red patterns on his skin, unafraid of what they might do to him ( _nothing, because this is Pietro and she is Wanda and they only hurt others to protect each other_ ).

In a different world, their love could have been accepted. She would be just a girl and he would be just a boy and together they could be just as happy. Her name could have been Wanda or any other; his name would always be Pietro ( _she does not know how to pronounce lovingly any other name but his_ ). They would not hide their love because they would know that they are just one man and one woman, and not a brother and a sister. Their love would not be proclaimed a depravity in a thousand different languages and one hundred different cultures. And if it were condemned in the eyes of some, they would be Romeo and Juliet and not sinners.

( _She does not think of other worlds, where they could never have met; where one could have perished before the other. Wanda understands numbers and words, magic and science, but does not see a place where her palms never met Pietro’s, where her body never knew his warmth. Wanda without Pietro and Pietro without Wanda are foreign concepts to her, like destroying something beautiful just for the pleasure of never giving the others a chance to also admire it_ )

Wanda thinks of running away. Having her brother hold her close and feel the wind on her face, the way the air escapes her lungs when he launches like a rocket searching for stars and planets. They could do this, all this. Searching for where they were not known as twins, where they were not known as Pietro and Wanda, Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. A place where their matching eyes and matching features ( _just some, not all; as if they were made to run and pretend the blood they have in their veins is nothing but a bad dream_ ) was just coincidence, a running joke between them, and not a cautionary tale.

 _Will we ever escape destiny trying to pull us apart?_ Wanda wonders and her fingertips give all her secrets to Pietro. A change of pace, a change of movement, _something_ that she never knows that she makes different when Wanda thinks of terrible things makes him sit down and hold her face between his hands. Pietro does not ask, does not do much but hold her there, eyes hard and questioning against her expression that falls apart slowly under his gaze. Pietro always tells her she is so strong, but Wanda does not feel it. Alone with her brother, alone in their bed, she feels the world’s weight on her shoulder with theirs curses and fears and hatreds and vices.

Maybe Wanda feels like drowning because she knows he is there to bring back to surface. She does this to him, but he does not hide it in their room. Pietro gives his opinion and shows his emotions to the whole world to see; bare teeth and bleeding fingers, feet pressing down against the Earth with so much strength, like a bull ready to strike. Wanda wishes she were like him, but there is harmony in her shadow and in his display. She is afraid that they would not last longer, lashing out against each other and against the world for everyone to see.

“Does it not bother you?” She asks and the accent always gets thicker when she is sad.

Pietro smiles at her in ways he would not do to anyone else. He is always so cold to others only to be in his warmest with her. “Why it would?”

Her chin trembles, rage pours out of her eyes in shades of red. “They tell us we are forbidden.”

Pietro kisses each of her eyes until they turn green again. It takes some time, maybe minutes or hours to him. Wanda always wanted to know how much their perspectives of the world are different; how many their stolen minutes last for him. Envies him, even, for everything they feel, everything they do stretches till infinite on his eyes and body.

“Blood is just blood.” Pietro says. “It comes and goes. Renews itself. For some, it is shame and sin. But it only makes our love purer.” He licks her lips until she opens her mouth to him. She opens her legs too, not even noticing how just one touch of him makes her feel everything. “We are made for each other that we came from the same place, the same mother and the same father. We are one and the same.”

It is Wanda’s time to kiss him, on the neck where he is most sensible. He dips his head, allows her more intimacy, sighs when she bites him. Pietro lets her push him on the bed so she can straddle his hips. Pietro is pliant on her arms in ways he is not around anyone else. He is stubbornness and anger, chaotic destruction and fleeting alliances, however, here with her, with Wanda, with her fingers on his skin and her lips against his mouth Pietro finds order and peace, constancy on a world that is meant to change as much as he is meant to run.

“We are the ones the Greek talked about so much.” She whispers, finally seeing what he sees as he wakes up and his eyes meet hers; when he sees the blood they share spilling on their bed ( _pagan promises and pacts that last forever_ ) or on their battlefields ( _it’s theirs. Every war and every battle, the moment they enter. There is no way somebody would ever win against them. They are chaos incarnate and the odds are ever in their favor_ ).

Pietro laughs, softly, shyly. His white hair falls on his eyes before sits up, his arms on her waist so Wanda won’t move from where she is sitting, before one of his hands move to under her skirt to play with her underwear, snapping the elastic only to make her moan. As her mouth opens and her eyes close, he kisses her again and his mind tells her: “Why are you so surprised?”

He is right; she shouldn’t be.

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* I love these two too much.
> 
>  
> 
> **[Russian translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4571488) by pridym. Thank you for this!**


End file.
